Just Ok
by JuubiOokami
Summary: But the worst was when Sherlock didn't do anything, when he became catatonic with boredom and loneliness and almost seemed to die a little. The worst was when Sherlock's mind stopped all together and depression, like a drug, purged him of life. S/W


**A small ficlet inspired by carrienloveme's amazing picture on deviantart called 'hurt and comfort'. A little muse on what happens and how Sherlock get's depressed. **

**Disclaimer - 'Sherlock' belongs to the BBC. **

**Warning - Depression and darkness, Watson/Sherlock - guy love. **

He found Sherlock on the bedroom floor. Of course this wasn't really that odd in itself, considering Sherlock's general behaviour, but Watson still fretted at the sight because he'd left the man the day before and whilst it was unsurprising to find the Detective sulking, Holmes' chalk white face and stern expression expressed more then his usual childlike, stubborn behaviour.

Twenty four hours.

It was silly, but John couldn't help but worry, because although it wasn't exactly a marathon of time, it was still far too long to leave Sherlock Holmes to his own devices. Because, well, for God's sake you could barely leave the man alone for a few _minutes_ and expect to find the flat still in one piece. An entire day was the equivalent of strapping a bomb to the Detective's chest and throwing him into a rampaging river with weights attached to his legs. Not that Sherlock didn't have any powers of self preservation – he was an abled fighter and thinker, it was rather that the man seemed to find a way of twisting the most simple of problems and putting himself into the most ridiculous, dangerous and complex positions as was physically possible.

To summarise, as Lestrade had so lightly pointed out to Watson during a particularly gruesome investigation, Sherlock was somewhat self-destructive at times. He didn't eat properly if left alone, didn't sleep, drink or sometimes even breathe and John was hardly to blame if he worried about the other.

But worse than all of that was when Sherlock didn't do anything, when he became catatonic with boredom and loneliness and almost seemed to die a little, unable to reach to that perpetual energy he had during investigations. The worst was when Sherlock's mind stopped all together and depression, like a drug, purged him of life.

Slowly lowering himself down toward the man John put a tentative hand upon the other's shoulder, running the fingers of his other across Sherlock's jaw bone. "Sherlock?" He said softly, but sternly, "Look at me."

The Detective didn't respond. Apparently his boredom had driven him to an ultimate new level of mental state – the man was completely unresponsive. Watson ran a hand across his lovers face gently, touching the dark haired man's cheeks lightly. The skin was cold beneath him, but he could feel Sherlock's steady breath upon his palm. Was the man so miserable and stubborn that he would ignore John even now?

"I'm sorry I left you, but I had to see Harry." John sighed, "Please look at me?" He turned Sherlock's head toward him and the man's eyes finally darted to his face, unreadable as ever. Watson was relieved at the movement. "Hey." The Doctor breathed, "Hold long have you been on the floor for?"

When Sherlock responded his voice was hoarse. "I don't know."

"Did you get drunk last night?"

"No. I was bored."

"Ok." Watson stroked his thumb across the other's cheek bone. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Ok." John wrapped his other arm around the back of the thin man's shoulders. Sherlock looked to him dolefully, and then sat up a little, burying his face into the nape of John's neck. His breathing was a little ragged and hiccupped, as if he were taking the first few gasps of air he had in hours. John stroked the back of his head and wound his arm around the others waist. "You're ok." He assured, "I'm back now. Sorry I left for so long." He brushed a kiss lightly to the Detectives temple. "Sorry if you were lonely."

Sherlock took another ragged breath in response and his hand wormed its way up the Doctor's chest and onto his shoulder, his fingers squeezing so tightly his knuckles turned white. John ignored the pain, ignored the fact that it was his injured shoulder, and ignored Sherlock hot, wet breath upon the nape of his neck. Because he knew that the man was gripping him like a life boat into reality, through the sanity of his thoughts. Because leaving Sherlock to his own thoughts was dangerous, because his mind was not a friendly place, it was harsh, cold and painful and Holmes would never talk about it, he would never vocalise his anger and fear and thoughts because he couldn't.

Sherlock kissed John's neck, his tongue hot against the other's skin as he scraped teeth across the sensitive area so that the Doctor had to close his eyes and resist the need to shudder a little in both discomfort and pleasure – not because it was painful, but because there was something disturbed, and intense about the way that Sherlock did it, working his way across toward the Ex-Soldier's throat.

Finally the Detective broke away and rested his head upon the Doctor's shoulder, staring blankly forward as John rocked him, unsure of the level of insanity that Holmes had reached.

Watson looked concernedly down to him, before touching his forehead to Sherlock's, their breathing mingling. Holmes' familiar smell filled his nose and he brushed several light, tentative kisses across the other's parted lips, their noses skipping.

"It's ok." Watson repeated in a whisper, "Let's go out for dinner, just you and me – you can tell me everything about all of other customers and you'll be fine. Ok?"

Their lips met again, tongues darting out and touching as they shifted their mouths, deepening the kiss before pulling away. Watson kissed Sherlock twice quickly afterwards, skimming his lips across the other's as he squeezed his arms around him. Sherlock leaned his back against the other's shoulder.

"Ok." He said quietly and Watson nodded, his cheek against Sherlock's forehead. "Ok."

**Please review and check out that picture. It's awesome. **


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